Conformity
by Rhea-samma
Summary: Tatsumi snaps at Watari during a meeting, but was the scientist thinking about something more important for a change?


So I don't own YnM, dull surprise, and I was thinking about Watari and the era he grew up in, and this little angst bunny came out of it. There's a teensy-weensy bit of TatsumixWatari-ness to it as well, because I can't seem to resist that pairing XD

**Conformity**

_The argument started with a simple statement out of the blue. A typical teenage non-sequitur of defiance,_

"_No." The reply to this was calmly punctuated by a thin, raised brow. The question was obscenely level and patronizing all at once,_

"_No?"_

"_That's right. 'No' I won't cut my hair."_

"_My son, I ask so little of you. Really the length is getting ridiculous. It's past your shoulders!" A touch of hysteria. A pause. Calmness returned, "The neighbors are starting to talk about you." Crossed arms and a belligerent stare,_

"_I don't care." Another pause,_

"_It's bad for your future." Long peroxide and chlorine bleached locks were tossed angrily._

"_I'm not gonna stay here all my life!" A different tack,_

"_What about swimming? Surely your hair must interfere with that." There was a draining pause before slowly answering,_

"_...I can... do what I like with my hair... I'd have to wear a swim cap anyway."_

"_Yutaka, I won't ask you again. You must cut your hair."_

_"GO TO HELL!"_

"_Yutaka Watari!" Watari... Watari... Hey..._

"Yutaka Watari!" Watari's face snapped up to meet the eyes of Seiichiro Tatsumi's disapproving glare. The scientist quelled and retreated from the looming man holding the pointer in his hands. Tatsumi only ever called him 'Yutaka' if he was angry or if the scientist was particularly distracted--in this case both probably applied. Sometimes, however, Watari felt that his antics were worth hearing his first name drop from those cultured vocal cords--no matter how much anger the word was charged with. _Masochist_, the scientist chided himself.

"Sorry Tatsumi..."

"If you don't mind Watari-san, I'd like to continue the meeting. Would you be so kind as to join us this time?" The blonde shifted in his chair, throwing his arm over the back of it with an utterly fake, yet careless smile,

"Sure thing Boss-Man!" Only decades of practicing self-restraint prevented the secretary from rolling his eyes (or striking Watari on the head with his pointer) before continuing on with the lecture of the week. Watari scribbled down some illegible notes that had nothing to do with the present lecture. His brows knit and he chewed on the end of his pencil--destroying the erasing capacities of the rubber tip with his saliva. He was so intent on this, the scientist missed the reproachful gaze that Hisoka threw the secretary, causing the elder man to stumble over a sentence. He closed his eyes again. _She smelled of sandalwood and lilies. A beauty mark under her right eye. That's right...Long and curly black hair tied back with a white scarf. That was my _mother. The scientist scribbled down a few more notes, and a rough drawing. Not one of his silly stick figures. Watari could actually draw decently when he put his mind--and his powers--to the task. This was important enough that he wanted it to look as near to the picture in his head as possible. Hmm. It was no Leonardo DaVinci, but it was still head, shoulders, and a pair of six foot stilts above what he normally drew. He closed the notebook and hugged it to his chest, suddenly feeling self-conscious, not wanting to bugger up an excuse as to why he just spent the last twenty minutes draining his powers drawing a picture that was representational for a change.

"...And that brings this meeting to a close. Are there any questions?" Watari stood mechanically, aware that every eye was on him,

"Ah. If you'll excuse me, I have a delicate experiment that needs attending to." He smiled and ducked out of the room, nearly sprinting to his lab as he fled the gazes of his coworkers.

Back in the meeting room Hisoka was unusually upset. Well, it was hardly unusual for him to be _upset_, but for the most part his annoyance, or even anger, was directed at Tsuzuki, or the Hokkaido girls. However, in an unprecedented display of rage, in front of a full audience even, Hisoka Kurosaki proceeded to chew Seiichiro Tatsumi out, after years of respecting, perhaps even being slightly intimidated by the other man. Actually, the teen was chewing out the room at large, but most of the ire seemed to get dumped on Tatsumi. It was a surreal experience, to say the least.

"Bastard!" Started Hisoka, slamming his palm flat on the table, making everyone jump. Tsuzuki cringed, not knowing what he did, but fearing the worst. "You workaholic, selfish bastard! All of you!" He turned flashing eyes around the room once before directing the burning gaze back at Tatsumi. There was a stunned silence as everyone realized that Tsuzuki was NOT the primary target of the boy's rage. Tatsumi was so shocked he couldn't even blink. Hisoka was breathing heavily, as though trying to get his anger under control, but the breathing exercises only seemed to make him angrier. The tension and awkwardness was unbearable. Tsuzuki made a noise and held out a hand, as though he hoped to act as an antenna and intercept the rage waves intended for Tatsumi. To change the situation to something more normal, more bearable, if nothing else. The younger guardian shot him a look and snapped, "Stay out of this Tsuzuki!" And his partner obeyed, flinching back as though Hisoka had cracked a whip. Hisoka knocked over the papers and the pencil cup that were sitting in front of him on the table, not caring that he was so obviously loosing it. His vision was comprised wholly of white and red, he couldn't even think straight, "I can't believe you! How could you do that to him? And how could you let him?" The last statement seemed to be directed at either Konoe or the Gushoshin, one of the two. The boss was simply stunned, never having to be on the other end of one of Kurosaki's ragefests. He'd been on the other end of just about everyone else's, but this was an altogether new experience. Wakaba coughed timidly from her end of the table,

"Um, just what do you mean Hisoka?" Hisoka rolled his eyes, his entire head, at her ignorance and turned to her,

"Watari!" Tatsumi finally seemed to have regained himself enough to try for a defense,

"I did nothing to Watari that was unwarranted Kurosaki-kun, I was simply--" Hisoka slammed his palm on the table again, leaving a slight dent on the mock wood. His voice was dangerously low, lethally contained now,

"You were simply 'what' Tatsumi? Don't tell me you couldn't see. Couldn't you_ all _see it? Couldn't you _feel _it?" he looked around half-imploringly, half-accusingly. Konoe lent his patient, soul-weary voice to the conversation,

"What Hisoka? Not everyone here is a telepath like you." Hisoka shook his head, that well-timed statement seemed to bring down the initial rage meter by half a dozen notches. He took in a deep breath, his body trembling silently.

"I-I'm...sorry. It's just.. I was in tune with Watari.. Practically synchronized because it was so strong...That's why I realize how important it is to him...Though I knew it was before but... it was..." He pushed a shaking hand into his sandy hair. Tatsumi's clipped voice interrupted him,

"What Hisoka? What was so bloody important to Watari, so unusual and--"

"He was _remembering_ Tatsumi."

"--Oh." There was a rather pregnant pause as everyone who hadn't fled during the initial slammings and screamings digested this. That was five people. Hisoka, Tatsumi, Tsuzuki, Konoe and the elder of the two Gushoshin. Hisoka gave Tatsumi a rather embittered, derisive smile,

"'Oh' is right Tatsumi-san." Hisoka's eyes narrowed into slits. He kept his gaze focused on Tatsumi, but directed the (again) disturbingly level voice around the room, "I don't know how you all missed it. How could you not feel that sudden spike of spiritual energy that accompanied it? I can't believe you all! I only hope to God, or whatever other deities are out there, that there was nothing more that was going to come after you interrupted." He let out a short, angry sort of snort. "Go apologize to him Tatsumi, damn you." And Hisoka stalked off, haughty and still incredibly angry.

It was Tatsumi's turn to tremble, though he stood, poker straight, stone-stiff, as Tsuzuki and Konoe seemed to get the message. _Get out now and leave me the hell alone. No I don't want to talk about it, fuck you. I know I'm an unemotional, socially, spiritually inept jerk. I just hurt one of my best friends, possibly beyond repair thank you very much, get to the point. Yes I'll have to apologize to Watari, but first could you go away so I can have an immense, nasty break-down in peace? _He waited until the door shut behind his coworkers to start shaking. His hands quivered. Gods, he felt like he was going to be sick from disgust and guilt. Everyone in the department knew that Watari had little to no memories of his life or death. However, Tatsumi was one of the few people who also knew _why_. Most others assumed it was a side-effect of the nature of his death or some such thing (much in the same way Hisoka had been unable to remember the events with Muraki prior to the doctor releasing the spell he'd used to repress those memories). That wide-spread assumption was incorrect.

The King of Hades had a special project that Watari was a part of. Tatsumi didn't quite know all the details (as they were supposed to be classified), but the "Mother" project had something to do with the Ministry's computer mainframe and security. Indeed, Watari's talent of giving life to things non-living would make him essential to the task. However (and here the specifics were murky to unknown) in either a trade, a bargain, or an accident Watari had been stripped of his memories. Tatsumi had a sneaking suspicion that it was an unforseen price, fine print that the King had "forgotten" to mention.

The secretary waited until his trembling had gotten under control. He had to face Watari as soon as possible, which meant no time for developing (however well-deserved) guilt complexes. He took in a deep breath, that hurt for some reason, and made his way to the door. The hallway was completely empty. Word traveled so fast in the Summons Section. Tatsumi often felt that if he could somehow set up a communications aspect to his department, they'd make a fortune (enough to make up for their extensive damages each and every month). If he strained his ears, he could hear the uncharacteristic sound of two dozen or so pens and pencils scratching. Hisoka's outburst must have really carried to inspire such diligence to the filling out of paperwork. Tatsumi smiled wryly to himself. Though the teen would probably never take it, when Tatsumi passed on or was killed again, he could replace Tatsumi's vacated seat with no problem.

Damn. Since when was the distance to Watari's lab so short? Tatsumi frowned. He didn't know what he would say to the other man when he stepped inside. What _could_ he say? Maybe he'd just let Watari beat up on him. Seiichiro bit his lip. He still needed to go in there: an upset Watari ended up doing many rash and not-brilliant-at-all things.

When he entered the lab, it was strangely clean. Everything was organized and put in its proper place. (It must've been nice to be able to make papers and pencils and boxes hop up and go where directed, Tatsumi often reflected.) The feeling in Tatsumi's stomach worsened. When Watari was _this_ bad, he tended to do extremely foolish and potentially dangerous things (the summons section had never quite recovered structurally from the last time Watari was depressed). And speaking of the thoroughly non-genki scientist, there he was. Sitting at a now clean card table, hunched over and staring at the notebook he'd been writing in. Tatsumi cleared his throat, but Watari didn't seem to acknowledge him. The secretary paused, wondering if maybe Watari was lost in another memory--and he certainly wouldn't want to interrupt _that_. He waited. In this delicate state, Watari needed supervision and looking after.

After another moment of silence, Tatsumi realized Watari was speaking.

The hunched over form rocked slightly. The Oskan whined in a thin, sad lament. Tatsumi didn't like what he heard, but he felt... wrong to try and intrude upon it just yet. Every Shinigami 'broke' once in awhile, and to interrupt the necessity of the breaking sequence could be downright detrimental to the mental health of said Shinigami, or just plain dangerous to one who attempted to interrupt such a process. However leaving a 'breaking' Shinigami unwatched was a less than ideal situation. (Tsuzuki being an excellent case in point.) Knowing all that still didn't make it any easier to listen to Watari's childish refrain, "I'm so sorry, please, I'm so sorry, mom, mom, I'm so sorry, you were right, I'm sorry, sorry, I didn't mean for, I'm sorry, mom, mom, mom, mommy, I'm sorry.. I'll.. I'll make it better. I'll make it right. Sorry, sorry. I shouldn't have--" Tatsumi blinked, and suddenly Watari was toying with a knife.

"Yutaka!" (Did he just use Watari's first name again?) "What are you doing?" A pale hand snaked up to grab one of his long, golden locks. A feeling of sick foreboding plunged down into Tatsumi's intestines.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry..I didn't mean to be such a bad son..." Tatsumi halted in midstep, shocked at hearing one of his own sentiments echoed by his friend. Then Watari sat up a little and the knife flashed.

Tatsumi's hand was clamped to Watari's wrist, and for a few heartbeats the world was completely still. Then a few golden hairs fell like autumn leaves in Kyoto, like the ever-weeping cherry trees outside. The knife had only gotten about halfway through the proffered lock of hair before Tatsumi had stopped its progress. "Watari?" The scientist was trembling, and if Tatsumi didn't know better he'd say Watari was either fighting tears or attempting to facilitate them. Knowing the blonde and his 'dry spells' probably the latter. The hand holding the knife weakened and Tatsumi allowed it to drop to Watari's side, blade falling with a harsh clatter against the floor. Tatsumi let his eyes land on the fallen strands of hair, and something underneath his carefully constructed emotional shields threatened to crack. Why would Watari _cut_ his hair? The thought was deeply disturbing to the secretary, and he didn't want to consider the implications of why he cared so much at the moment. Returning his attention to his friend, Tatsumi gently pushed the free and partially cloven lock of hair behind Watari's ear. A few tears were leaking down Watari's face, slowly like oil. For all his emotional freedom, Watari found it nigh impossible to cry without intense effort on his part. His normally smiling mouth was twisted and hard with frustration, and his face was that ugly shade of red and violet that comes from straining the body. Gently Tatsumi stroked his friend's forehead and temple, uttering soothing nonsense words as he took a chair next to his friend. "Shhhh, it's all right Watari...You're going to be fine...Perhaps you should attempt your potion again. Have you thought of searching through mythology yet for the answer? I'm sure some ancient pantheon stumbled across the formula..."

A mostly (about ninety-eight percent) dry sob escaped Watari's throat and he flung his arms around Tatsumi's chest, burrowing his face against he elder man--no doubt wrinkling his tie beyond measure. The secretary didn't really give a damn about his tie though. A small spot of wetness soaked through Tatsumi's shirt, and Watari seemed to have come out of whatever trance he was in. Enough to explain himself in halting, strained breaths. Each time Watari inhaled it would get caught until his lungs bade him let out his breath. "I... I'm sorry... Tatsumi...I... Remembering..." Tatsumi put his hands on Watari's shoulders and made him sit up a little to look him in the eye. Oh, that wet spot must be blood, not tears. A cut on Watari's lip was already healing where he'd bit through the skin. Oh well, it wasn't as if the kagetsukai hadn't washed bloodstains out of his clothes before.

"Breathe Watari." Gallantly Watari hugged his knees and drew in more regular breaths, still catching and consciously having to force exhalation however. "Don't hyper-ventilate though. We all know how long it takes you to stop doing that." This second command was half-earnest, half-teasing.

"O-kay. S-sorry. I'm... it just.. I just...all at once...I dunno...guilt..and...my mom...I...she...my hair...I..."

"Shhhh. Take your time Wa--Yutaka." The other man stared at him, completely stunned. Tatsumi took this opportunity to explain himself. "I wanted to apologize to you for what I said during the meeting. I..should have realized it was something important..." He chuckled softly, "You know, for all your absent-mindedness and supposedly short attention span, I don't recall you ever spacing out even once during a meeting. You're always so attentive...You should have heard Hisoka's wrath on your behalf, it was quite impressive. I just hope I...didn't...disrupt your recollection." He let out a deep breath, taking note of Watari's still erratic breathing pattern, "I'm glad you've gotten Hisoka to let you in. That boy needs more friends like you and Tsuzuki. I... I haven't managed the trick, though I'm not sure I quite know _how_. Then again, it's _you_ isn't it? I mean, no one can dislike you Yutaka...You're Watari." Tatsumi paused, wondering that his personal observations were able to verbalize themselves without getting corrupted into something detrimental in the process of speaking. In short, he was able to say the right thing for once--and that fact was somewhat unnerving. Watari seemed to notice this and he smiled,

"Hey...don't look so surprised." His voice was wheezy and faint. "You may not be as personable as I am Tatsumi, but I know you care about people. It's not unreasonable..that you should..should be able to comfort some...one.." Tatsumi peered into the dull, exhausted, tawny eyes.

"Are you alright now?" A nod. "Now would you mind telling me what possessed you to take a blade to your--hair." Gah! The word 'wonderful' had almost slipped out there. It had to be some sort of unconscious jealousy. That was it. Brown hair was common and uninteresting, but gold was fascinating and lively... Or some similar internal argument. Watari toyed with the shortened strands,

"I wanted--well, it just sounds s-so stupid..." His teeth clamped down on the tender, still red flesh of his lips again, "I.. In the office I.. I remembered my mother Tatsumi." The secretary nodded, having gathered that much already, but he kept silence out of respect for Watari's feelings. "It was an argument...an old one at that. Or at least I think it was. I'm pretty sure. It felt like it anyway." His eyes narrowed, "I think I was in high school. One of the later years, 'cause I'd been swimming... My hair has always been..curly, but it looks better long. I look like a cross between Shirley Temple or a poodle if my hair is any shorter than my ears. Anyway, so I decided I wanted to grow it out. No one noticed, and my mom was never so cruel as to make me go.. poodley again. But my hair always looked like it was a _normal_ length ya know..? Sorry, I'm rambling..." He trailed off, as though threatening to stop. Tatsumi placed a hand on his shoulder,

"Go on..." There was a pause,

"If the fifties and sixties were a time of conformity in America, then it was nothing compared to Japan. You have to understand that. Well.. I guess you would, you old relic you." Tatsumi pressed his lips into a parody of indignation,

"Well I'm glad to see you're feeling well enough to ridicule me." Watari grinned sheepishly,

"Yeah well anyway...I was really devoted to swimming, still am in fact! And well, the stuff in the water did funny things to my hair, bleached it out and started to make me a blondie. So I figured, hell, why not go all the way? So I bleached it, dyed it, got highlights--or the equivalent in those days, the whole works. I was on the swim team so that was acceptable, but then I started growing it out. It was past my shoulders. I don't really remember, but I'm sure random adults on the street would shout profanities at me. Maybe I got beat up once or twice... I don't know." The hand on his shoulder tightened at that momentarily. Watari smiled softly again, grateful to know that Tatsumi cared about him.

"Anyway.. Um..." Watari rubbed at one of his watery eyes. "So we argued and...I left." Tatsumi looked at him, uncomprehending,

"You left?" Watari nodded and turned away, breaking their physical link.

"Yeah. I was really mad. I ended up staying in the basements and attics of various friends for the rest of high school. Wish I could remember their names..." Watari sighed, "I don't.. Know how she...died but I ...there's this.. Guilt. I don't think I killed her--directly, but I still... She was just looking out for me, and I left her. I never made up for being such an ungrateful son." Watari bit his lip, "I-I hardly ever helped her, I was studying or with friends, but I could have helped her around the house or.. I could have just cut my hair. I.. She never did ask much of me. God Tatsumi I can't remember if I ever went back or not! I can't remember if I ever told her I was sorry, or that I didn't want her to be lonely or worried about me! I can't remember if she _did_ worry about me! There's... There's _nothing_ there except this guilt and emptiness taking up space where a memory should be!" Watari bowed his head, the very picture of dejection. "Maybe..maybe this is the reason Mother stripped my memories... Comeuppance for what I did to _my_ mother." Tatsumi pursed his lips, refraining from making a treasonous remark about the King of Hades' sadistic tendencies.

"I see..are you so sure something you did caused her death? And if you don't know...maybe you did extend the olive branch to her. But still...why would you turn your lab into a barber's shop over this?" Watari went a little pink from embarresment,

"I dunno...I guess...I was all caught up in my mind and stuff.. I thought maybe... maybe it would make it 'right'. I guess... I... don't really know anymore." The lenses of Tatsumi's glasses flashed suddenly,

"Yutaka Watari, as long as you work under my section of the Summons Department in the Judgment Buearau, you are hearby _forbidden_ to alter your hair in any significant way that is permanent. I will dock your pay if you attempt to do so, proportional to the inches shed from the length of your hair." Watari stared at him, eyes practically bulging out of their sockets.

"Are you freaking serious!" Tatsumi smiled but, as kind as it was, it had that typical 'do you have a problem with that' attitude to it as well.

"Doesn't that make your decision about your hair much clearer?" Watari crossed his arms,

"Well yeah! If I'm gonna loose my pay on account of cutting my hair, no way!" Watari frowned, "Hmph. Since when did you become so sneaky and underhanded? I mean, you always were, but this is manipulation of Watari-proportions." Tatsumi's grin changed into a decidedly rougish one,

"I learned from the best." Watari punched his shoulder good-naturedly,

"Bastard." Tatsumi smiled,

"I expect you'll find some way to fix your hair before the day is out." He stood up, "You look terrible Watari. Have you been taking care of yourself? Come to my office later and we can go out to dinner." Watari raised a brow,

"You're asking me out to eat?" Tatsumi shifted uncomfortably,

"Well, it's just that I know you forget to eat when you get wrapped up in your work. It's a wonder you don't collapse on us." Watari stood up and grinned,

"Yeah, I guess you're right about that. Okay. Sure." The secretary smiled, suddenly relieved though he wasn't sure why. He nodded and made his way towards the door.

"I shall see you later then. I'll be in my office if you need me." Watari nodded.

"Okay. Oh, but first...Tatsumi?" The secretary turned and suddenly found himself on the recieving end of a bone-crunching hug. Watari mumbled into his jacket, "Thanks. I.. I really needed..someone to confide in there. I know that sort of thing makes you uncomfortable, so I... It really means a lot that you would do that for me. Thanks." Tatsumi couldn't help but smile, and he returned the embrace, lightly squeezing Watari around the shoulders. Just as suddenly, he was released and the affable man waved at him, "See you later!" Tatsumi smiled--he was doing a lot of that for some reason--and went through the door, suddenly very impatient for the end of the workday to arrive.


End file.
